


Bloodlust

by Khateeah



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Amputation, Blood, Blood As Lube, Character Death, Corpse Desecration, Dark, Gore, Guro, M/M, Murder, Necrophilia, Rape, Sadism, Sibling Incest, Snuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-17
Updated: 2016-10-17
Packaged: 2018-08-23 01:49:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8309125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Khateeah/pseuds/Khateeah
Summary: Hanzo bids his brother one final farewell.





	

**Author's Note:**

> DARKFIC. READ TAGS.

Bloodlust wasn’t supposed to be a literal term.

It was the thrill of the chase, the drive to conquer, the euphoric high of crushing one’s enemies one by one. But for Hanzo, it was more than that.

For Hanzo, it was hunger.

The scent of blood hung thick in the warm, muggy air of springtime. Senses keyed on high, Hanzo could hear each droplet of blood falling from the tip of his sword, rhythmic little _pap paps_ against the crimson soaked tatami mats lining the floor. And he could smell it. _Oh,_ could he smell it. Tangy and pungent and raw, the scent of his brother’s blood flooded his nostrils as he surveyed his handiwork, a soft growl humming in his throat.

He’d conquered his prey, but he was far from sated.

A tiny, rattling gurgle met his ears, and Hanzo’s brow creased. Genji was dead. Even if his body yet lived, Genji was among the dead now, numbered among the countless souls who’d passed on before him. Nonetheless, he admired the boy’s effort - Genji fought death like a Shimada, fierce and defiant and strong until the end.

Setting down his sword, Hanzo knelt at his brother’s side, heedless of the wet squelch his knees made against the spongy, saturated mats beneath him. He extended two fingertips, caressing Genji’s parted lips, blue-hued and flecked with blood. Still warm, soft, just like they’d been in life. But the warmth wouldn’t linger. What blood remained in Genji’s veins would still, settling to the bottom of his corpse like a rock sinks in a river. And he’d be left stiff, lifeless, and cold.

But not yet.

Hanzo’s eyes, empty and dark, skimmed over his brother’s body. He’d mutilated him. Severed his sword arm below the shoulder, slashed deep into his gut, hacked off his left leg just above the knee. He’d run him clean through, too, remembering in vivid clarity what it felt like when the chip in his blade caught on Genji’s ribs. It was a far cry from the clean death he’d wanted for him.

And though he was loathe to admit it, Hanzo knew the force, dark and hidden, that had guided the hand that butchered his brother alive. The aching press at the front of his pants was glad to remind him all too well.

Without a doubt, Genji was the most beautiful man ever to have graced Hanzo’s bed, but in death, he was an absolute masterpiece. It was in the way his clothes, once white, clung slick with blood over each sculpted swell of muscle. It was in the way he’d sobbed and begged, his pleas echoing in Hanzo's head to the song of the insects outside. And it was in the way he’d succumbed to his wounds at last, propped up on one trembling hand and knee before collapsing, defeated, to the floor.

Hanzo leaned closer and looked into his little brother’s bloodshot amber eyes. They were open, still and blank, though the tiny contraction of his pupils told him that life still lingered inside Genji’s broken, dying body.

Perhaps he too would be able to enjoy what Hanzo had in store for him.

He made quick work of the sash at Genji’s waist, peeling down his bloodied pants and boxer-briefs and freeing the stump of his leg. He looked appraisingly over Genji’s bare skin, ashy and grey where it wasn’t stained crimson, his soft cock milky pale where it laid limp against the dark nest of fur between his legs. He'd looked forward to that sight, and a sick twist of arousal curled in his gut at just how completely different Genji’s cock looked now than it had while he still lived.

His own pants came next, stiff cock springing free as he hiked them down over his knees and knelt between Genji’s thighs. A smile twitched at the corner of his lips. Genji was quiet, still as a stone as Hanzo took himself in his blood-slicked hand and gave it a few long, slow pumps. An indulgent groan escaped through parted lips as he tilted his head back, basking in his brother’s perfect silence.

“Genji…” The whisper of a name danced on Hanzo’s lips, a call his brother would never answer. And Genji didn’t. He laid hollow and motionless as Hanzo leaned over him, stealing another look at his little brother’s placid, blood-flecked face. This time, the amber-ringed pupils veiled beneath those long, pretty kohl lashes remained just as still as the rest of him.

Genji was gone.

Hanzo dipped down and caught his brother’s lips in a tender kiss. Habit had him expecting Genji to kiss him back, but his lips never moved, only yielded beneath his touch. His tongue slipped into Genji’s breathless, still-warm mouth, gently mapping the points of his teeth before delving deeper to lap at the blood coating his flaccid tongue. The taste made him moan.

He needed more.

Genji was his now. He’d taken his life, the one and only thing a man could ever truly own. All that remained was his perfect shell, the strong, virile vessel his little brother had guided so carelessly, so recklessly since the day he’d been born. Now, Hanzo owned that too.

Hanzo lifted Genji’s remaining leg and hooked it over his shoulder, granting him a view of the tiny, pale pucker between his cheeks. The spread pulled the muscle open, flashing a tiny hint of his deep, clinging depths. His cock twitched at the sight, and he wondered absently if he’d even need lube. He might have been tempted to try and enter him without if he didn’t have such a perfect source of slick right in front of him.

Gentle hands peeled back Genji’s ruined shirt and kyudo-gi, exposing the deep gash running lengthwise across his stomach. The blade had cut well, slicing through skin and muscle all the way into the abdominal cavity at the point the blow had first struck. Hanzo licked his lips, smiling at the way his hand stopped to hover in hesitation over the wound, as if touching it would cause his brother pain.

Genji’s pain was over.

Hanzo pressed two fingers over the lip of the wound, feeling taut muscle part and give way to the soft, slick entrails nestled within. Smooth and pliant, the sensation of Genji’s insides slipping frictionless beneath his fingertips had Hanzo’s eyes sinking shut, blood-stained lips parted as he drew in a slow, shuddering breath. He’d never been this deep inside his brother before. No one had.

Hooking his fingers, Hanzo drew them carefully back, dark blood pooling in the crease between the digits. With his other hand wrapped beneath his cock, he allowed the liquid to fall, streaking fat, viscous droplets over the tip and down the rigid shaft. With a few quick pumps, his cock was coated with a sheen of sticky crimson, twitching and aching where it jutted like a bloody spear from the dark patch of wiry hair between his thighs.

The push into Genji’s body was easy. His hole was perfectly relaxed, and Hanzo bottomed out in one long, slow stroke. Holding himself in deep, he rocked his hips back and forth, relishing the way Genji’s lax body closed in around him. He was still tight, even in death. Hanzo groaned in content, Genji’s thigh gripped tight to his chest as he basked in the sweet sensation of the smooth friction moving along his length.

Genji was so different like this - docile and pliant, he'd become everything he'd never been in life. Not half an hour ago, he'd been the exuberant, defiant, headstrong boy who'd proven himself too much to handle, a liability to the Shimada empire. Too wild to rein in, until now. It seemed like it should have been so easy for Genji, to simply submit, now that the deed was done. Why hadn't he been able to comply in life?

Hanzo lifted what remained of Genji's left leg over his shoulder and leaned forward, nearly folding him in half as he angled deeper into his soft, cooling depths.  He used the leverage to pound his little brother’s body like a battering ram, Genji's limp form jolting like a rag doll with each forceful smack of his hips. He remembered the sounds Genji used to make when he fucked him like this, keening wails and sobs that filled the room with lewd, audacious abandon.

The silence was better.

Utter silence, broken only by the sharp, violent rhythm of the rape of his brother’s corpse. It was fitting, Hanzo thought. The punctuation marking the end of his whore brother’s life, a final wicked act of love before his pretty body turned to ash and bone. The thought only spurred Hanzo on. He moved faster, harder, fucking all of his rage and resentment into Genji’s bloody, sloppy hole.

Hanzo came with a bitter snarl, fingers fisted tight in Genji’s sweaty, tangled mop of green hair as he rode out each spastic, shuddering wave of his release. The orgasm ripped through him, tearing away each and every fucked up thought and emotion in his mind and expelling them from his cock in thick spurts of come. Each unforgiving thrust pushed his seed deeper, smearing one last time over the dead, spongy walls of his little brother’s rectum.

Then it was over, and Hanzo collapsed, draped spent and heaving over Genji’s maimed, desecrated corpse.

It was over, and Genji was gone.

**Author's Note:**

> This was a hell of a lot darker than what I usually write, but it's Goretober and I was inspired. 
> 
> For more fics, drabbles, WIP updates, etc. follow me at [khateeah.tumblr.com](http://khateeah.tumblr.com)


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